


Keeping Score

by weisswinds



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Hand Jobs, M/M, explicit tag for sexual content but this isn't really porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisswinds/pseuds/weisswinds
Summary: Praetor, Executor, Heretic. These are the words on the lips of the people. For some, the Kingdom's rigid structure provides just that. For others, draconic law and rule are smothering, a slow suffocation. A group known as the Phantoms has operated for the last two years, practically unchallenged in their crusade to "rip out the cancers of the kingdom." A certain young Praetor and Executor have wagered their careers, and likely more, to capture the leader of the Phantoms. The two of them aren't the only ones with a lot riding on the next crucial few hours, however.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Keeping Score

**Author's Note:**

> This is an anniversary gift! happy one year, hun~ kiss kiss uwu 
> 
> I haven't written this pair before but i had a whole lot of fun with this and hope y'all like it! might turn into a bigger au, might not.

It was a face to face nearly a year in the making. Praetor and rogue had danced their cunning dances around one another in clash after clash since the latter’s group became active. How many times had the praetor been a moment too slow, a little unlucky, or- he gritted his teeth- genuinely outfoxed? Goro continued his focused stride through the stone fortress, pushing thoughts of past failures aside. It only took succeeding once, after all.

Between the fortress guards and officers he passed Goro was regarded with a mixture of apprehension, awe, and disgust. He ignored it all. If they did not understand the necessity of practicing heretical arts in the name of justice they were beneath his contempt. Goro didn’t look at who fell in step beside him. No one else would have, so there was no need.

“Executor Niijima.”

“Mm,” came her terse response.

Noncommittal and a little standoffish? The executor was in a decent mood, it seemed. She dressed in the robes of her station, with little to distinguish it from another executor. The robes were primarily white with erratic slashes of red that intersected at sharp angles. Each patch of red was outlined in gold filigree. Upon close inspection the gold script revealed itself as repeated prayers for clarity, strength, and wisdom. Under Goro’s willfully plain travel cloak he wore similarly styled light leather armor.

Praetors and executors were the symbol of the kingdom’s justice, the tip of its spear in the fight for security, peace, and justice. Praetors acted as largely independent investigators and protectors of the realm. Their duties included anything from sleuthing out unethical business practices to stamping out a bandit encampment. They were supported in their tasks by Executors, agents filling the roles of partner and handler. The pairs were left to their own devices, aside from regular reports back to the High Executor, a faceless and anonymous figure steeped in mystery.

Sae Niijima and Goro Akechi were a relatively recent partnership. They were both young, driven, and utterly devoted to their ideals. Theirs was an often contentious, grating partnership, the effectiveness of which none could deny. They both knew that Sae didn’t exercise much control over Goro. It was better that way. They both knew that too, loathe as she was to admit it.

“Don’t-” she began as they rounded the last corner.

“Screw this up?” he cut her off with a sidelong glare, annoyance evident.

“You verified it was him and not three cleverly addled kobolds in a large coat, I hope?”

Goro nearly tripped over an imagined loose stone. Sae took a few more paces as he collected himself, turning with a comfortable hand on her cocked hip.

“It happened once,” Goro seethed. His cheeks had flushed red with shame and anger.

“Once is enough.”

“You-”

“Still haven’t told a soul. Except for the High Executor, of course. I do have to report every detail, after all. Still, they aren’t exactly known for their gossip so I’d say your reputation is safe.”

Goro cleared his throat, regaining some measure of his composure.

“I appreciate your discretion.”

“Mm.”

The door before them was simple and sturdy, wooden with a heavy handle and no visibl lock. Executor and Praetor were shoulder to shoulder, sharing the pulse-pounding instant before a standoff broke bloody. He reached slowly for the-

“Remember why we’re here,” she reminded him, abrupt and calm. 

-handle. It flashed bright red, a spark leaping from the lock rune to zap Goro’s hand. He swore in a language from another plane and rounded on Sae to level a glare.

“Why-”

She interrupted the snarl on his lips with a raised hand, “You work better angry.”

Sae pressed her left pinkie to her thumb and flicked it towards the handle. Tiny cobalt motes left a sparkling dusty trail in her glowing fingernails wake. There was a gentle rush of air from the dispelled lock.

“If, in my anger, harm comes to the Registry it’s on both of our heads,” Goro took a warning tone.

“Even you aren’t that brash. Go on, I’ll be waiting.”

Sae’s pinkie took on the same cobalt glow as she stepped away from the door and a pace down the hall. She set to the deft work of inscribing a conjuration rune upon the empty air, no small feat. The arcane letters spiralled into one another upon completion. Their light expanded to encompass Sae’s immediate vicinity, a radiance Goro had to raise avert his eyes from. There came a heavy thump, followed by Sae’s bemused “Oh?” Goro blinked twice, processing the state Sae had inscribed herself into.  She was pinned to the wall, her boots two feet from the ground. The large ebony desk she conjured was an order of magnitude larger than necessary. One end of it was against her chest, the other shunted partway into the opposite wall. Executor and Praetor stared at one another, sharing the pulse-pounding infinity when one doesn’t know if they should laugh or not.

“So…” she began.

“This is the wrong desk.”

“This is the wrong desk,” she agreed, and set to work once more.

Her nail carved through the surface of the desk as easily as the air moments prior. Goro shut his eyes against the next flash of light. When it dissipated Sae sat at a much more reasonable desk, similar to one that would be found in a lecture hall. She was already writing as if nothing had happened. 

“Will you be including that in your reports?” 

“Every detail,” she didn’t look up, and there was an air of resignation in her voice.

“Of course.”

Goro didn’t waste another moment and pushed the door open. It was a plain room. Stone walls, stone floor, cold gray. Two wooden chairs sat across each other with a smooth table between them. Goro’s breath caught in his throat, a reflex he coughed away, when he saw Akira. He was seated facing the door, head tilted downward. His artfully unkempt hair fell to obscure his features and whether or not he was awake. He dressed as ever in a long black coat with more belts than Goro thought necessary over heavily enchanted leather armor. An impossible, abyssal, sentient darkness churned around Akira’s neck. It appeared as a scarf woven from starless night. The Aspect of Rebellion, Arsene, twitched in Goro’s direction. Akira stilled the movement with a deliberate pat. Goro clicked his tongue, irritated as he crossed the room to sit.

“Why aren’t you bound?”

Akira looked at his hands as if noticing them for the first time.

“It takes a praetor’s rune, I think. I hardly noticed it come undone,” Akira spoke nonchalantly, ever infuriating and enticing.

He held his wrists together, offering them to Goro. The praetor flicked his wrist, producing his Etch. The rune carving tool might have been mistaken for a pencil if not for its cobalt blue, mythril, sheen. Its sharpened silver tip shone bright. Goro regarded Akira’s hands, considering for a moment before setting to work. He was ever meticulous in his inscription, and skilled such that his speed never suffered. Hardly a moment’s deft inscribing passed. Twin arcane rings circled Akira’s wrists. They buzzed with energy and shone brighter for a few seconds. They blossomed into translucent bindings, myriad in form. Vines encircled his wrists, while countless threads laced their way up Akira’s arm, squeezing tight. For good measure at Goro’s behest the spell spat out a dozen lengths of thin chain, their hollow clinking up, down, and through the other bindings signaling Akira’s detainment. Presumably.

“Let’s not waste any more time,” Goro said, sliding his Etch back into the cloth loop that held it in his sleeve. He met Akira’s eyes, searching their dark grey depths. “Where is it?”

Akira met an incisive, searching stare with a blank one. Goro drummed his fingers across the table, once.

“Of course. It would be poor form to reveal it that easily.”

“Right. It’s no fun if you don’t work for it.”

“So you do know something,” Goro flicked his Etch to his hand again.

“That’s not very specific, Praetor.” Akira glanced at the Etch, curious.

Goro flicked the implement around his thumb with his middle finger, catching it in mid rotation. He repeated the motion periodically. Another drum of the fingers on his other hand, dull impacts against the silence as his jaw clenched.

“The Registry.”

Akira raised his eyebrows in obviously feigned surprise. Goro gave him a blank stare. He dropped the act, but kept a nonplussed expression.

“Even now, in the belly of the beast, you remain as composed as always,” Goro was looking as he spoke, only half addressing Akira. “Why is that, I wonder.”

“It must be my rebel spirit.”

“A defiance of all expectations, hm? And when that defiance comes to be expected? What then? It is infuriating, but unsurprising,” Goro brought his eyes back to Akira’s.

Akira weighed the question, head tilting left and right as he did so.

“Interesting distinction.”

“But ultimately pointless,” Goro said.

“But ultimately pointless,” Akira nodded as he echoed.

Akira did his best to stretch his shoulders against Goro’s thorough binding. Goro watched him twist his shoulders this way and that, struggling against the arcane shackle. He let his mind wander, a little. It took no small measure of willpower to keep it that way.

“So, where is it?”

Goro hoped Akira didn’t notice the keen attention he paid to the rebel’s lips as he gave his answer. 

“Isn’t that classified? Why would I know where the Executors’ symbol of power and control is? I certainly wouldn’t tamper with it if I knew,” Akira flashed a cocksure grin.

“Impossible,” Goro snapped reflexively but…

One of Akira’s companions was a genius. There was no debating that fact. Goro was exceptionally talented with rune magic and growing by leaps and bounds with the heretical. That girl, though, had already done what Goro thought impossible. Her talents were a true fusion of the rigid order that runes demanded and the unbridled chaotic freedom of the Aspects heretics were bound to.

“Hm.”

Goro detested how much information Akira was sure to glean from the involuntary noise but there was no helping that now. Sure enough, Akira’s reply came with a relaxed smile.

“Remembered Oracle, huh? Never tell her something’s impossible if you want it to stay that way.”

“What sagely advice,” Goro said, monotone.

For the first time Goro saw surprise and shock bolt across Akira’s face, contorting his relaxed expression for but a moment. Goro raised an eyebrow as Akira recovered his composure enough to ask a question.

“How’d you find out about Sage already? Good work, Praetor.”

So he had a new companion, Goro mused, thanking his lucky word choice. Praetor work was like that, sometimes. The moniker had troubling implications, none of which Goro had time to ponder over.

“I have my moments.”

“Fewer and further between lately, no?”

Goro sharply inhaled and spat a venomous reply.

“I caught you, didn't I?”

“Sure,” Akira shrugged, “Once.”

“What, are you keeping score? I don’t keep track.”

Akira didn’t bother hiding his perplexed expression.

“What? Keep track… of once?”

“Listen you little reject-”

The two went on as such for a time. They traded barbs, jabbing banter, deflections and layered half-truths. It was a meandering interrogation, if it still qualified as such. Goro was in no rush. With an Executor watching the door, they wouldn’t be bothered. Outside the afternoon sun began to set, dyeing the sky a medley of orange, pink, and everything between. At long last, Akira brought up the Registry.

“Want it back?”

Goro choked on the breath the abrupt question interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You switched our roles again.”

“Shut up. What are your terms?”

Akira raised a finger, about all he could do in his rune shackled state. 

“Hang on, I have to pee.”

Goro stared, a half dozen thoughts filling his mind at once, each as poorly timed as the last. 

“So use the chamber pot.”

Akira was aghast.

“Like some kind of animal? Open me a Rift.”

Goro was aghast.

“What in the name of Seven would that accomplish?”

Akira shook his head, clicking his tongue with each shake.

“You’re sworn to an Aspect but you sure still think like a stuffy praetor.”

The unseen being in Goro’s heart gave it a squeeze, eliciting a gasp and sending a painful wave of nausea through Goro. He gripped the edge of the table, eyes shut. His brow furrowed in obvious pain until it passed, relaxing little by little. Akira gave him a sympathetic smile. He blanked his expression once more as Goro recovered.

“Then please,” Goro’s voice was faint and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Then please enlighten me, master of Rebellion.” He tried to make a mockery of the title but found himself lacking the usual venom after that episode.

The abyssal scarf shuddered, and Akira laughed. The movement set Goro’s nerves on edge. There was, quite literally, no such thing as too careful when dealing with Akira and Arsene.

“He says its more of a sugar daddy situation,” Akira explained.

“What? For whom?”

Akira just smiled, ever the picture of innocence. His eyes darted up and away momentarily, smile shrinking.

“Seriously, man, I gotta go. Open a Rift to Inferno. Trust me, they don’t care at all.”

Goro pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“No no,” Akira stopped him before he started, “The entire plane is fire. They  _ don’t _ care. We do it all the time. None of us have toilets.”

Goro looked up, narrowing his eyes. There was no way to tell if he was kidding.

“I’m serious.”

“I see that.”

“So…”

“Yes, fine.”

Goro’s chair scraped against the stone as he stood. There wasn’t much room to work with here, a fact he frowned at. A chill crept up his spine almost before he searched within for that reservoir of foreign power.

“In… fer...no…”

The syllables filled his mind, a voice not his own echoing and resounding in his skull. With the syllables came a sight of flames. Goro saw nothing but fire. There were people here. Buildings. Roads. A bustling thoroughfare and robust society, all of it composed of flame. All at once the vision was gone, and Goro saw the stone chamber again. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow before the next step. His palm was unnaturally warm. There was no need to look at the complex circular sigil seared into his cracked flesh. He slashed his arm through the air, palm outward. The air shimmered with a heat haze. That was the Veil punctured, Goro noted, always fascinated by the very process. His foreign power reached out of its own accord to stabilize the Rift. The shimmering haze became a silently raging flame, warming the room to a painful degree in the instant before Goro’s power held it firm. The sphere shrank to roughly a foot across and moved to hover one foot from the ground. The flames left with the heat, leaving behind the same barely visible haze. Goro used the back of Akira’s chair to wipe the ash from his palm. Akira’s chair scraped against the wood, drowning out Goro’s slight grunt of effort. Arsene was heavier than he looked.

“Alright, make it quick.”

“Where is it?” Akira asked as he stood.

“What? It’s right there. Can’t you see?” Goro pointed straight to the rift.

Akira leaned towards it, squinting, and shook his head.

“Barely.”

Goro felt his temper rising again. “So what, want me to aim for you?” he took a derisive tone, hand on his hip. Maybe Sae had rubbed off on him a little after all.

Akira blinked. Vitriolic or not Goro  _ had _ said the words, not him. Oh, this was going to be too easy.

“It’s a bit embarrassing but...” Akira tactfully bit his lower lip as he looked at Goro.

Akira didn’t meet his gaze for long, looking away with a bashful mask. Goro felt another rising, again. It wouldn’t be the first time. It wouldn’t be the first time Goro had told himself it was the last time, either. He mentally resigned himself to his task, at odds with the physical euphoria he felt at the anticipation. 

“Get up,” he muttered, kicking one of Akira’s chair legs.

“What?”

“Get. Up,” Goro repeated, louder. 

“You’re really going to? I was kidding,” Akira said as he stood.

Goro didn’t bother responding. He spent enough time restraining himself to navigate the mire of his day to day. Akira was the only one to see him like this, as he truly was. He paid Arsene no mind as the Aspect slipped out of sight, under the folds of Akira’s clothes. Rebellion was never far, after all. Goro’s right hand went to Akira’s jaw, tilting his head up to expose his neck. As Goro bit, gently, his left went to Akira’s waist. He pressed his crotch against Akira’s backside and cursed the involuntary moan he let out. Akira let out a single breathy laugh, pressing back.

“Easy, Praetor,” he cooed, “You’re dealing with a liar and a thief after awwhhll.”

Goro had stuck two fingers into Akira’s mouth, deepening his biting kisses. He gave up on loosening Akira’s belt one handed, opting instead to shove his pants down forcefully. Akira gasped sharply at the sharp, scraping stimulation. Goro, almost reverently, took hold of Akira’s dick. The heat and throbbing in his hand sent a fresh thrill through Goro, one that ebbed and surged with each stroke. Akira sucked on his fingers, matching pace. Akira bit Goro’s fingers and shoved his ass back, grinding firmly. Goro winced, not noticing the other bite, elsewhere.

“Yuh kno,” Akira spoke around Goro’s fingers, quickly removed, “You really are an easy mark.”

Goro hadn’t the time to even ask what Akira meant. He was yanked backwards, slamming into the wall with an impact that left him gasping. He didn’t fall, remaining stuck to the wall by tenacious shadows. Arsene had gone entirely unnoticed, slipping from Rebel to Praetor. The sentient darkness had wrapped around Goro’s waist and all over the rest of his body, leaving him helplessly pinned. Akira fixed his clothes before turning to Goro with his usual, cocksure, grin. A tendril fetched the Etch from Goro’s sleeve. Its silver point applied to Akira’s bindings dispelled them without issue. Akira stretched his hands and arms, shaking out the last few hours of stiff numbness. 

“Probably should,” he said to himself, taking the Etch from the tendril and pocketing it.

Goro was stunned, watching Akira in a dumbfounded state. How. How had he let this happen  _ again _ ? What was it about Akira that sent him reeling and spiraling, no matter how he tried to plan around the rebel’s seemingly endless capacity for schemes. He hung his head low, taking little solace in the fact that they were in the heart of Kingdom control. There would be no recovering from this disgrace. The geas between Executor and Praetor demanded he inform her of every detail. He heard the sound of a zipper being opened and looked up through his bangs. Unbelievable.

There it was, being pulled out a pocket dimension. The Registry. It was a normal sized tome, and not particularly thick. Its binding and cover were nondescript brown with a simple gold vine pattern up the spine. Akira wordlessly closed the distance.

“Here it is,” Akira said, voice hushed.

He opened the Registry to a random page, holding it so Goro could see.

“What do you see?” 

The question was a challenge, that much was clear even if Goro didn’t immediately understand what about. He focused on the text presented. The Registry was filled with names. Criminals. Dissidents. Heretics. Anyone the Kingdom needed to keep continued tabs on could be found here and located by way of the Registry’s powerful enchantment. Goro read a name but sensed no location. Another. Nothing. Another, another. Nothing, nothing. Frantically his eyes danced across the page, searching, hoping, pleading against all chance. Akira snapped the book shut matter of factly. Goro raised his head again, only to have his forehead lightly smacked by the cover before Akira tossed it onto the table.

“Impossible, huh?” Akira’s smile was that of a languid predator with all the time in the world.

He put his hand on Goro’s cheek, gently rubbing with his thumb before pulling him into an even gentler kiss. A brush of lips, hardly anything more. 

“See you around, Praetor.” Akira took a step back.

The shadows binding Goro to the wall merged to form Arsene once more. Goro fell to his knees, free but defeated. Akira held a hand out for Arsene to leap to. He kept the hand extended as Arsene took his comfortable place as a scarf once more.

“Praetor,” Akira repeated himself more firmly.

Goro looked like he snapped out of a trance, looking up at Akira with a start. He looked uncertainly at the offered hand, and shook his head. Akira nodded, and put his hands in his pockets.

“...Right. Be seeing you,” Goro said. 

He knew he couldn’t stop. He had to keep chasing Akira. No matter the shame, disgrace, or how many defeats he suffered, he would persist. Even now, facing the greatest of all failures, Goro felt alive. Such was Akira’s power. Arsene enveloped Akira in darkness, an orb of perfectly still shadow. It grew smaller and smaller until it finally vanished. Goro watched all the while, not bothering to keep the affection from his smile.

Maybe next time, Praetor.


End file.
